Tuesday, January 15, 2013


Write quickly, the air
Around you is getting
Thicker, solidifying
So fast a word you loathe

As much as the taste
Of crushed medicine,
"Gelid," comes to mind.
There is no time

Like the absent
For inscribing this air.
You could skate it
And sign it with blades

If you could move.
Seek shelter, slowly
Darkening traveler.
The wind is dead

That used to whisper
The shushing refrain, "when
Skating on thin ice
Our safety lies in speed."

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.